


Happy Landings

by LateStarter58



Series: Sarah's Smutty Notebook [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Sexual Dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Fifteen years after his last visit, Andrea gets that Loki-feeling again...





	Happy Landings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fear of Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952034) by [LateStarter58](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58). 



There it was again. That tingling. That tickling feeling at the back of the neck. As if I was being observed. I’d felt it before, of course, everyone does occasionally, right? What usually happens is you look round and there is someone staring at you, in a good way or not, but there is usually someone to see.

Not today.

I’d had this precise experience before. Just once, fifteen years ago, in another life. In a life that ended that very night, when Loki came into it.

I looked around the refectory, but I could not see more than the usual casual scrutiny or friendly looks from colleagues and students. I’ve worked there for a long time, and I’ve been running the University Medical Service as manager for the last ten years, so I’m part of the campus infrastructure now. As I scanned the room I caught the eye of the Dean of Humanities, who was in the queue for the salad bar. She waved. I waved back, but I was not particularly reassured. The feeling in my spine gradually faded and I got on with my day.

It came back as I walked home. I still do that, walk to and from the University of Essex Med Centre every day (unless it’s pouring), although I live in a little house in Wivenhoe now, rather than my old flat in town. It’s a Victorian two-up, two-down with a kitchen extension, cosy and perfect for me. Terry and I bought the place together, when we got married. Yes. _Frigid old Andi_ \- once cured by a god - caught herself a bloke. And a bloody good one, at that. Sadly, he was also one with chronic kidney disease and after his third failed transplant I lost him two years back. But we had twelve very happy years together.

Actually, I think my walking habit, plus working with young people, helps to keep me youthful. I feel a lot less than my 51 years, anyway, as long as I avoid mirrors or other reflective surfaces. I was striding happily along the path when, as I passed the curved walls of the Ivor Crewe Building, there was that tingling again, only infinitely stronger. I stopped in my tracks and scanned the area. There were a few students and staff walking along the paths in various directions, some crossing the grass, others heading down towards the lakes shimmering in the distance to my left, but nobody was looking at me, as far as I could tell.

_Could it be HIM? Could he be back? He said he would be, but after all this time?_

Life can be so strange; hard, even cruel sometimes, as I know only too well. But sometimes something utterly perfect happens and you wonder why you moaned so much. Some people put those happenings - those rare positive outcomes when the good are rewarded or the wicked are punished - down to the workings of a higher being. Not me, though. With one notable exception, I prefer to blame blind luck and the common sense of humans, admittedly rare. Because I don’t believe in a benevolent god. Or, in fact, in gods at all.

_Not unless you count Loki._

Have I told you exactly what happened between him and me? Probably not. It’s not the sort of thing you talk about, unless you want people to call the nearest psychiatrist. You know who I mean, though: the maniac who tried to take over the planet… curvy horns-guy? He visited me once, a couple of years after all that New York business. He came to me for one magical night and then left again, as suddenly as he had arrived.

_He changed my life._

I knew then, as now, that he wasn’t a ‘god’, just an alien with superior strength and technology. But he was so… I want to say ‘kind’, but when I write that it seems nuts. But he was. It all happened almost exactly fifteen years ago, and I have forgotten some _precise_ details, but the atmosphere of that night – how Loki made me _feel – that_ has persisted in my memory. Because his visit saved me from what had become, in part at least, a miserable existence. My sex life, and hence my love life had been a disaster area because I was unable to orgasm with a partner.

_Until Loki._

So now you know my weird secret.

The creepy ‘being watched’ sensation persisted up until I reached home and locked the front door behind me. I was greeted, as usual, by a loud and prolonged meow from my tabby, Eric, and a hoarse, almost-silent scream from Ginger Keith. Yes, I am that cliché, the mad cat-lady. I also serve Sid (as you know, dogs have _owners_ , cats have _staff_ ), who is black and reminds me irresistibly of a certain Norse god. He is more elusive and liable to wander than the other two, and he is often out causing trouble in the neighbourhood. But he was home that afternoon, slinking down the stairs, silent as a ghost. I took off my coat and boots, fed my companions and knelt down to light a fire in the wood-burner. The cats settled in their usual spots, as near to the warmth as possible. Once the logs were glowing nicely I ran upstairs and changed into joggers and a loose jumper while I pondered what to do about dinner.

As I descended the stairs again the feeling had come back so much I could barely breathe. I looked warily into the sitting room but all I could see were the cats. However, all was not right with them. Eric – normally the personification of calm – was hunched up with his ears flat against his head. Keith was snarling at something invisible too, and Sid? Well he was standing with his back arched and his fur sticking up, eyes like saucers, looking like a living Halloween decoration. All three felines were staring at an empty armchair. It had been Terry’s favourite, and just for a moment I harboured the thought that it was his ghost sitting there.

But, as I finished coming downstairs, my hand gripping the wooden rail tightly, I realized I could smell pinesap and fresh greenness, as if someone had brought a real Christmas tree into the room while I was gone. And as I watched, gradually, from the floor up, a familiar figure began to materialize by my fireplace, the details forming from a golden curtain of sparkling light. Black leather boots of such style and panache I wanted them all over again; leather breeches, cleverly constructed and perfectly fitted; an other-worldly coat of metal and leather and wool, in black, green and gold. And atop all of this a hauntingly beautiful, pale, almost elven face surrounded by long, shiny hair, black as a raven’s wing.

“Loki.”

_“Andrea, my dear.”_

He bowed his head.

“Long time, no see.”

He chuckled. _“Yes, my apologies. I have been rather, um… occupied.”_

From the corner of my eye I saw the cats relaxing. Clearly, the manner of his arrival had alarmed them, but apparently, not Loki himself. _Interesting._ I allowed myself time to survey him carefully. He had aged; not as much as I had, it’s true, but there were one or two silvery streaks in that jet-black head of hair, although not a hint of a line on his perfect face. But there was a tightness around the jaw, a tension in the eyes, and that smirk of his seemed less assured than before. I wondered what to do.

 “I was about to make dinner, Loki. Would you care to join me?”

_“I would love to, my dear.”_

I meant to eat, but he stood up, obviously wanting to help in the kitchen.

_A god? Cooking?_

Soon we were in my narrow galley, Loki leaning against the worktop, arms folded. He looked about as at home as a dad at a One Direction concert. I opened the fridge, hoping for inspiration.

_“What are we making?”_

I looked at him, so out of place in his sci-fi-come-Game-of-Thrones outfit. “I have no idea, actually,” I admitted, perusing the meagre contents of the fridge. “Do you like omelettes, Loki?”

He cocked his head. _“I am not familiar with the name, but will happily I eat most things.”_ He smiled again, and it was so sweet I wanted to kiss him. There was no hint of double-entendre, or anything other than a charming young man about him, despite the blush that was rising up my face at the memory of our last encounter. Was this really the same sexy creature, the one who had made me relinquish control so utterly all those years ago? I realised I was staring at him and snapped out of it.

“It’s just beaten eggs, but it’s quick and very tasty – if done well.”

I thought for a moment, then remembered I had some nice bread in the freezer and salad stuff lurking in the drawer, so soon the microwave was humming and the God of Mischief was slicing tomatoes. In my excavations to find vegetables I had come upon a forgotten punnet of strawberries, so I was washing and hulling those at the sink. I was concentrating on the task when I heard Loki take a deep breath.

_“I was most saddened to learn of your bereavement, Andrea.”_

_He knew? Of course he did; he knows everything_

“Well, yes, thank you… My husband was never that well, but we were happy together. Thanks to you.”

_“It was my… pleasure, my dear.”_

I put down the strawberry I was holding and turned to look at him. “And now you are back to collect on my promise?”

He chuckled, and the sound went straight to my core. He was the sexiest being I had ever encountered, and neither my age nor his current charm had altered that one jot. Last time, he had left abruptly. He promised to allow me to repay him, but he had also said that he would return soon, which he did not. I looked at him again; he was looking down, almost shyly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

_“Well, yes.”_ His head turned and our eyes met. _“If you would like that, Andrea.”_

My stomach flipped and I felt a little faint: that tends to happen when all the blood rushes to one part of your body. I smiled and shrugged. “I do owe you an orgasm.” Then it occurred to me. ”Actually, I owe you many more than one, Loki. I owe you much more…” I felt tears prickling as I thought about Terry, and our life together. I shut my eyes and struggled to regain my composure. Suddenly I felt strong arms pulling me into a hug and I rested my cheek against a solid leather and metal breastplate.

_“I understand how hard it must be for you to continue without the person you love. I have learned much about these things in the time since we last met.”_ I felt his lips pressing onto the top of my head. _“You are a strong and brave woman, Andrea. I wanted to reacquaint myself with that strength.”_

Feeling safe in his arms, my heart started to slow down. I reflected on the change in him: he was tender before, but with a constant undercurrent of scary sexiness. Now that seemed to have morphed into a more subtle allure. Less overt, but no less sexy.

I lifted my head and smiled weakly at him. His hand stroked my face and I fought the urge to cry again. When you feel vulnerable, people being compassionate can make the barriers fall, but I managed to compose myself enough turn away and continue with the preparations for our meal.

Not long after we sat facing one another across my little dining table by the back window of my living room. Loki seemed to be relishing the ham and cheese omelette I had made him. He had mixed a dressing for the salad that was dark and delicious and I loved it. He declined to tell me who taught him the recipe, but his eyes went a little dreamy. _An old lover? A wife?_ I recognised that I knew precisely nothing of his life. We all knew what had happened, what he had done all those years ago, but before or since then?

We ate, talking about nothing in particular. I pondered the strangeness of my situation. I was no longer in the first flush of youth, and I was getting signs of my impending menopause. And yet, here I sat, breaking bread with the sexiest creature imaginable, prior – presumably – to having delicious sex with him (if the last time was anything to go by). Loki smiled slowly.

_“Age is unimportant, my dear. And you need not be privy to the details of my life, except to know this: I have learned what it is to love and be loved, to share one’s life with another. I think I can guess at your pain, Andrea.”_ He paused and the smile broadened a little. _“But you are correct, I do intend to have delicious sex with you.”_

_****_

My bedroom was cold, but not unpleasantly so, and I was hot enough to compensate. Loki had magically removed our clothing again, but we had made our way upstairs by more normal means. Not that there was anything _normal_ about it: climbing the stairs, feeling his cool fingers on mine, knowing that what was to come would be an exceptional experience. Now I stood, naked in all my lack of glory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Despite the years that had undoubtedly taken their toll on my body, Loki was as perfect as I remembered. Pale as a statue, flawless and beautiful. And oh, there it was: I had missed out on that before; not this time.

There was no rushing, no grabbing or roughness; no attempt to dominate or use his vastly superior strength. There was simply a simmering passion between us, an intensity that left me breathless, even before any caresses had been exchanged. I needed to touch him: the ripples of muscle on his belly, the line of black hair that led to that magnificent cock. An elegant hand took mine and brought it to his arousal. It was surprisingly hot, in contrast to the rest of him, bar that delicious mouth. Hard; soft silkiness over marble. I watched his face as I wrapped my fingers around the length: his jaw clenched and he hissed.

_So even gods have their weaknesses._

His hands were on me now, caressing my curves, pulling my body against the firm perfection of his, his breathing rapid. “ _Andrea, it is time you repaid your debt_.”

I squeezed him a little and he growled, pushing me down onto the bed. Now he used his physical power, but only to lift and place me where he wished. And his mouth – _oh, how I have dreamed of that mouth –_ was everywhere, making me tingle with every brush of his lips or swipe of his burning tongue. I arched my back to meet it and he chuckled, a dark sound that ratcheted up my desire.

“Loki… _please_.”

The old smile returned, scary-sexy, wicked, and he lifted my legs up and suddenly there he was. The feeling as he slid into me was indescribably wonderful. His gaze was locked with mine, his mouth slightly open, his lower jaw projected, and as his pelvis met mine he moaned a little. We stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other. I savoured the feeling: pressure, sweet, almost-painful-but-not-quite; the stretching; the tickle of his hair on my inner thighs; the cool of his skin against mine; the fragrance of him – freshness and herbs and pine trees; the beauty of his face, so intensely watching my every expression.

Then he began to move, still keeping a close eye on my reactions, smirking a little when a tiny change of angle or speed made me moan or squeal. I could tell that despite this supposedly being for his benefit, I would not be neglected in any way. Far from it, I thought as I felt my nerves begin to channel all the electricity in Essex into my groin, _far from it._ I could see he was enjoying himself too, his eyes were black with lust and his mouth was still open, breaths gusting out as his hips became a blur.

No normal _man_ could have kept this up – not for so long. Dismayed, I felt that old feeling returning, the one where I was afraid to let myself _really go_ – the one that had brought him to me originally. I had tried to fight it over the years since, with mixed success. I renewed my efforts. All at once I heard him growl into my ear. “ _No, Andrea, you will come with me. You WILL._ ”

With that he released one leg and slid his hand between us to press hard on my clit, simultaneously sucking with equal vigour on that sweet spot at the base of my neck. And that did it. My entire body flexed against his, heat blossoming and spreading through my limbs, making them shake, and when my breathing was able to restart, I whispered his name.

I think I must have passed out, or fell asleep or something, because I came to in his embrace. I could hear his heart beating, slow and steady by my ear. I lay a hand on his perfect ivory chest and I felt him dip his head to kiss my hair. I lay there, reflecting on what had happened, and how it had differed from fifteen years before. He was gentler, kinder, less threatening. He seemed older, wiser, less predatory, more understanding. All of those traits had been visible in him the first time, although they were better hidden then. He was less afraid of showing his compassionate nature now.

But what had truly changed, I suddenly recognised, was in his eyes. The last time there had been wariness behind the mischievous glee, but that was gone now. I lifted my head and looked up into his lovely face and those glittering green orbs. I cupped his cheek with my hand, and he leaned into it.

“Oh Loki, is everything OK with you?”

He smiled sadly, nodding. “ _All is well, Ther-,er,… Andrea. It is simply that sometimes I regret wasting so much time on fighting, defending, conquering. None of that lasts, none of it is ultimately satisfying. Not in the way that love is._ ”

I knew he had more to say, but I did not press. I did not comment on the slip he made. It was none of my business, but I hoped – I still hope – that Loki still has love in his life.

We lay in each other’s arms until I fell asleep. When I woke up it was with my usual alarm, and I was alone, apart from a single red rose on the pillow beside me. When I went downstairs I saw that Loki had done the dishes and tidied everything away. _Trickster indeed._ I fed the lads and sat down at the table with the rose in my hand. Will he come back again, one day? I certainly hope so.


End file.
